AN: Tipper, can I frame that feedback? Seriously, thank you! To everyone, thank you, I'm so thrilled to know that you all are enjoying the story. And, I've got to say, this story isn't near being finished, we've just begun smile!


Chapter Eight

Puddle Jumping


Sheppard was resting in the pilot's seat. The wide front window of the Jumper allowed a breathtaking view of the sunrise, or sunrises. He hadn't noticed before, but M3M-552 had two suns. One was hazy and distant, a paler twin to the brighter star that burned hotter and nearer. They were riding the horizon in tandem, stretching forelegs into the stars. The refracted wavelengths painted a canvas of amethyst robes on a kingly throne.

It was quiet in the vehicle. John had woken before the others and crept to the front, letting the fatigue settle on his shoulders, like Atlas carrying the weight of the world. More sleep wouldn't shake the sapped feeling. He was beginning to worry that his cold was wreaking more havoc with his body then he had believed. It was hard to sleep when your head ached, your arm throbbed, and every turn in bed caused a flare of pain.

"Shame that such a pretty world has such a deadly ecosystem." McKay slid into the seat beside Sheppard, watching the vista of creation, before turning to John. He noticed John's pale lips, and flushed cheeks. He also noticed the liquid-glazed eyes and fatigue hanging over him like a pallbearer waiting to take up his burden. "You look like hell."

"Thanks." Sheppard said, keeping his eyes forward.

McKay sensed this wasn't a good time to press. "Anytime." Beckett would be up soon enough, and could do his job. Let Sheppard get angry with Carson.

They continued to watch the raw nature revealed from their seats for a few minutes more, before the quiet became too much for McKay. "Did they bring any coffee?"

Sheppard regarded Rodney without saying anything, but his meaning was clear. McKay cleared his throat. "I'll just go check," he said, pointing to the back.

"You do that."

McKay placed a hand on Sheppard's seat as he passed by, paused, and turned to the Major. "Want a cup?"

Sheppard closed his eyes, counted to ten, and reopened them, looking at McKay. "Yes, I would. Thank you, McKay."

"You're welcome," Rodney replied, surprised at Sheppard's acceptance. He could tell John wanted to be alone, and that his presence had been intrusive, but the Jumper wasn't exactly the Hilton.

John knew he had thrown McKay off, but he also knew it wasn't fair to take out his frustrations on a man he considered to be his closest friend. He'd left everyone behind, not that I had anyone, he thought bitterly. His two best friends killed in action, his career in ruins. This had been a chance to make something out of his life. The developing friendship with Rodney had taken him off guard. They were opposite ends of the magnetic pole, always repelling each other yet always attracted by a common bond, though what it was he still hadn't figured out.

"Major," Rodney offered the steaming cup.

John took it into his hands, cradling the heat source, and inhaling the aromatic scent of the canned coffee. "It's not Starbucks."

"I prefer home ground, actually."

"Come on, the Caramel Machiatto is to die for."

"Over processed," McKay shook his head disdainfully. "A true coffee connoisseur knows that you've got to select the best beans, roast them to perfection, grind and use immediately. It's the storage that leeches the flavor."

Sheppard took a long sip. Definitely not Starbucks, but after a few days without, it was better than any cup of coffee he'd had since they made it to Atlantis. "You roast your own beans?" he asked. "It's just coffee, McKay."

"Is it just wine, Major?" Rodney huffed.

"I don't like wine."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a difficult person to try and make a point with?" McKay snapped, although they both knew he wasn't truly irritated.

Sheppard smiled, and took another slow sip, turning back towards the window. The twin suns had now galloped across the sky and reclaimed day from the moon and stars, chasing them away to that nether realm where they'd wait patiently until the suns tired and relinquished control for another night. There was still a morning haze coating the world in a misty promise of heat. He wondered how many sunrises they'd be around to witness. "Did you think of any solutions in your dreams?" he casually asked.

"Maybe," Rodney admitted. "Say this is a zoo, or a gate testing site, you'd think there would be a control center. Now that we've got the Jumper, it would be easy to search the planet."

"What good is that?"

"Major, if you had a test location, or an observation center, where would you keep the information you gathered locally?" McKay asked.

"In a database," Sheppard nodded as he realized where Rodney was leading. "And that database might contain "

"Information on how to gate home," McKay finished. "Exactly."

John straightened in his chair, the coffee in his cup sloshing against the rim and spilling a few dark drops on his pants, which went unnoticed. "What are we waiting for?"

McKay pointed a casual thumb towards the rear of the Jumper, while taking another sip.

Sheppard twisted and looked to the rear, amazed to see the three bodies in the same position from earlier. If it weren't for the small slow periodic rise of the material, he'd wonder if they hadn't died. He turned back to the front. "Right."


"Where are we going?" Beckett asked, his voice thick with drowsiness. His hair was mussed and his general appearance disheveled. His five o'clock shadow had a shadow. He had been woken a few minutes ago by a curt shake from McKay. He'd stumbled out of his bag and accepted the steaming cup of coffee without thinking. He didn't even like coffee.

"For the fourth time, Carson, we're going to look for the control center that the Ancients probably built somewhere on this god forsaken planet," Rodney explained.

"It looks like a nice planet to me," Ford said.

"You wouldn't say that if you'd been washed down a river," John cringed as he moved his arm, "Or clawed by a He-Wolf out for his dinner."

"Good point, Sir." Ford needed the reminder. The three men hadn't experienced an easy time, and the Major and McKay had an even harder experience with the river crossing from before Beckett had gated over. It was important to remember that looks could be deceiving, and this planet was an unforgiving teacher. Forgetting that lesson might cost you your life.

"Speaking of that," Beckett looked at Sheppard. "Major, may I see you a minute?"

Sheppard sniffed, trying to keep his nose from dripping while he searched for a tissue he swore was there a second ago. "What?" he asked, having missed Beckett's question.

"I said, I need to see you for a minute." Carson repeated.

John seemed to debate whether he wanted to cooperate. Beckett crossed his arms and regarded the Major. "It will do you no good to put it off," he said sharply.

"Fine." Sheppard stood from his seat where he'd been prepping the Jumper for flight. "McKay, figure out where we're going."

Beckett stood to the side of the cockpit's entrance, holding his hand out for the Major to go first into the rear of the Jumper. As Sheppard hunched by to get in the back, Carson shut the door behind him. "Have a seat, Major."

John sat down gingerly, trying to look as if he wasn't favoring his arm, but was largely unsuccessful. He looked across and saw Teyla pulling bandages from Carson's bag. "It's fine. I don't need new band-aids."

"Band-aids?" Beckett said it in such a way that Sheppard knew his attempt at minimizing his injury hadn't worked. "Open," Carson instructed, shoving the thermometer into John's mouth when he did so.

Sheppard felt ridiculous, on top of feeling sick and washed out. The digital thermometer beeped under his nose and he sat there feeling like he was ten again, dragged into the doctor's office when he complained to his mother that his stomach hurt, hoping to get out of school, but only earning a trip to the Doctor.

"How are you feeling?" Carson asked.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows trying to look Carson in the face, which wasn't easy with him standing over him. "Mmm…fine," he tried to speak clearly but that wasn't easy either, when there was something shoved into your mouth.

Carson unhooked the blood pressure cuff he'd stuck on John's arm, and turned back after handing it off to Teyla, "What was that?"

John rolled his eyes, and pulled out the thermometer. "I said I feel fine."

Beckett took the machine, checked the display, and shoved it back into John's mouth. "Just once I wish you would be honest," he sighed. "The only one who ever admits the truth is Rodney, and sometimes I wish he'd not be near as truthful."

Sheppard snorted, but didn't say anything. Teyla smiled, knowing full well the cause of John's mirth. McKay was a known hypochondriac, but they all learned a vocal McKay was a working McKay.

The digital thermometer did the triple beep signaling it was finished with its job. Beckett took the slim machine and eyed the reading. He frowned, which caused Sheppard to frown as well. "What?"

"One-hundred point seven, Major. Let me see your arm."

John figured that was part of the drained feeling. Fevers tended to have a reducing effect on vitality and energy. He held out his arm and let Beckett carefully pull his sleeve upward, exposing the thick wrapping of bandages that Carson had applied yesterday. He looked over and was surprised to see the white had been replaced with a yellow tinged red in many areas.

Beckett eyed it critically. "That would be the cause."

Teyla was staring at the mess on the Major's arm. "Cause?"

"His fever, Teyla. The scratches are infected." Beckett held a hand for his bag, which Teyla passed over to him. He took the bag and started rummaging through, looking for something. He pulled out a small clear bottle and a syringe.

John was eyeing Carson with trepidation. "What's that for?"

Beckett noticed the look on John's face. "It's to numb the area, Major. That arm is going to have to be cleaned, again, and it's going to hurt."

"I thought it was just the cold making me feel tired." Sheppard hadn't intentionally tried to be the stoic soldier and let a potentially dangerous injury get worse. He knew in conditions like this everyone needed to be in the best shape possible. Knowing there wasn't much to be done for the common cold, he'd tried to suffer in silence. His arm had only started to really ache during the night.

"It's my fault, Major," Beckett was full of recriminations, all aimed at himself. "I should've checked last night. I should've started prophalytic treatment. Teyla, tell Rodney we're going to be a few minutes."

Teyla nodded, and headed to the front of the Jumper, opening the hatch and poking her head forward, out of John's sight. He heard the soft rumblings of her voice, and the lower, strident replies from McKay.

He saw Teyla pull her head back, and Rodney poked his head around her body, sighting on the Major, and frowning. Sheppard waved jauntily with his good arm, and tried to smile brightly for levity.

McKay didn't say anything but pulled his head back, and Teyla shut the door, coming back to help Beckett with the medical torture that cleaning his wounds was going to be. Carson was eyeing him hard and making John feel uneasy. "What?"

"I think I'll give you a bit of this before I start removing the bandages."

Before Sheppard had a chance to ask how a numbing agent could be effective given in a different location than the cuts, Carson had slipped the needle into his shoulder, just below the joint. He felt the cool line of the medicine thread into his veins and felt his tongue get thick in his mouth. "What "

"Be good, Major, this will be over before you know it," Carson whispered softly, as the Major's eyes drifted shut as the light sedative took effect.

Teyla seemed surprised. "You drugged Major Sheppard?"

"That I did." Beckett pointed at the crusted bandages. "Lass, that is going to hurt like the devil himself when I pull them off, and there's no making it better. If I hadn't put him out of it "

"I understand, Doctor." Teyla did, actually. Major Sheppard would never ask for pain medication, and would've tried to get through it, hating every show of weakness that he would unwittingly let through his defenses. It would be unnecessary pain.

"Let's get this done. That should only last about thirty minutes, and I want to be finished in about twenty."


"Beckett, the next time you drug me, don't be around when I wake up."

Carson leaned over Sheppard. "Be thankful you were. That arm was a mess."

John let his eyes open, relieved to find that Beckett had kept the room empty, and it was still Carson and Teyla keeping watch. His arm was burning; it felt like his skin had been scrubbed raw.

"I've given you some pain relief, it'll kick in shortly. I've also started you on a broad spectrum antibiotic."

Sheppard grimaced, and tried to get into a sitting position, reaching for Beckett's hand when he failed to make any progress on his own. "Give it a moment. It'll wear off fast."

"Is McKay ready?"

"We were waiting for you, Major," Teyla answered. She was watching him with thinly veiled concern.

John let out the deep breath, steeled his body, and got to his feet. He only swayed a little before gaining solid footing. "Let's go."

Beckett didn't protest so Sheppard figured he was safe for the time being. He headed towards the cockpit, and put his hand on the control. As the door slid open, a harsh sneeze echoed in the direction of the pilot's seat.

"Damn it." McKay swore. "He's going to pay for this."

"Who's going to pay for this?" Sheppard asked innocently. He knew exactly what McKay meant but he wanted to see him squirm.

McKay turned to look at the Major, who was standing shakily in the doorway, his arm bandaged thicker than before, the sleeve of his jacket bulging outwards from the bulk. "You know what I mean," he retorted, refusing to take the bait. "Sit, we've been waiting on you."

"Beckett, I think McKay's sick." John said, grinning.

"Despite Rodney's belief, it was only a matter of time. He'll live." Carson and Teyla took the seats directly behind Sheppard and McKay. Ford stood beside Teyla.

"Shall we?" Sheppard asked.

McKay checked the display one more time, dialed it up. "I dialed Athos. We'll see where that takes us. It's a start, anyway."

"Your theory is that this will take us to a gate somewhere on the planet?" Teyla asked. Teyla and Ford hadn't been there for the first half of this adventure, and she was still trying to make sure she understood what exactly was going on.

"Yes. It might be the bear gate," Rodney mused, recalling that Athos had a cooler climate than some of the other planets they'd visited.

"Bear gate?" Ford looked confused.

"Don't ask," Beckett advised solemnly.

Sheppard guided the Jumper into the sky, aimed it down the throat of the gate, and accelerated. The trip through was uneventful and to John's surprise, they did come out at the bear-gate, going with Rodney's designation of the different locations based on the wildlife in the area. "Great, now what?"

"Try thinking about it." Rodney had thought about that aspect earlier, when Beckett was fixing John's arm. It might come up on the display.

Sheppard thought about databases, the planet in general, gates…even tried thinking of a ZPM, but the display remained stubbornly quiet. "Nothing," he said, disgusted.

"Worth a shot, Sir," Ford said cheerfully.

"Ford, you do realize, we've been here for a while."

Ford's smile tempered to a muffled grin. "Sorry, Sir."

"It's fine, just "

McKay interrupted, "Try not to act so happy. It's annoying to those of us suffering from colds and clawed arms, and stuff." He wasn't going to mention the fact that the mold Sheppard had talked about seemed to be a very real possibility. He was probably growing fungus in places he didn't want to think about.

"Look, nothing's come up, does that mean it's not in this area, or that it doesn't work? Should we try one of the other gates?" Sheppard tried to steer the conversation back to the matter at hand.

McKay started to reply, his mouth opened, but then it opened further, and he let loose a humongous sneeze that sprayed Sheppard's jacket. John stared at McKay, the working of his jaw the only sign of his emotions. McKay stared back, in a sort of fascinated stupor. He cleared his throat and accepted the tissue that Carson was holding for him. He wiped his nose. "Sorry about that, Major," he leaned over and started wiping off John's coat with the tissue he'd wiped his nose with seconds ago.

Sheppard pushed his hands away. "McKay!"

"I said I was sorry," he retorted.

Everyone could see the vein throbbing on the side of John's head. "Just tell me what to do," John said with forced calm.

"Probably try another gate." McKay looked at the symbols, "What was that planet we went to with the dunes and it was hotter than "

"M4C-682," Teyla supplied before McKay could finish.

Rodney didn't seem perturbed by the interruption. "Yes, that's the one."

"Fine, dial."

Rodney quickly entered the right order of symbols, and the gate did its thing. John sighed, rotated his shoulders slightly then lifted the Jumper into the air again, gently guiding the controls and lining the Jumper on the right vector. "I hope this is it."

Rodney's reply was snuffed out by another Jumper-shaking sneeze. Sheppard threw a glare over his shoulder in Beckett's direction, "Can you give him something?"

"There's nothing to give for a cold, Major. You should know that," Carson reminded Sheppard of his own sneezing.

"Major!" McKay shouted. "Pay attention."

John turned his eyes back to the view screen. "Keep your shirt on, I know what I'm doing."

In the back, behind Teyla, Ford was fighting to keep the smile off his face. It was obvious that tempers were short between McKay and Sheppard. They were sick, and they were tired, and undoubtedly fed up with this planet, but the whole situation struck him as kind of funny. "And we're puddle jumpin'," he mumbled quietly.

A sharp look, but a slight smile from Teyla let on that he hadn't mumbled it as quietly as he thought. He worked harder on cutting the smile down, and kept his eyes forward. On to the next gate they went.